Who's Afraid of Picture Perfect?
by MajinSakuko
Summary: Complete! A little peek into the ordinary world of Little Red Riding Snape. Featuring Big Bad Remus, bashful virgins and dangerous dragons en masse.


Title: Who's afraid of Picture Perfect?  
Author: MajinSakuko  
E-Mail: MajinSakukoyahoo.de  
Beta-Reader: JamesMarsters15  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, JKR everything else  
Fandom: Harry Potter  
Pairing/Main-Chara: SS, RL, (NL/HG)  
Rating: PG-13  
Genre/s: Parody, Humour  
Warning/s: Major AU; OOC  
Summary: A little peek into the ordinary world of Little Red Riding Snape. Featuring Big Bad Remus, bashful virgins and dangerous dragons en masse.

* * *

It was a wonderful day. The sun was smiling down upon its children, sending its warm rays to earth, bathing Hogsmeade in light.

Little Red Riding Snape couldn't care less.

The streets were full of children, laughing and dancing, playing tag or plucking flowers from the sideways. It was such a peaceful sight.

Little Red Riding Snape threw pebbles through his windows to shut them all up. Dark eyes were ablaze with fire, red like his flaming hair (which was, by the way, responsible for his horrible name), fluttering in a soft breeze, and the children scrambled apart, screaming in terror. Mere seconds later, the streets were empty, drying flowers laying scattered around forgotten, and Little Red Riding Snape sneered in satisfaction as he surveyed his accomplishment. He hadn't lost his touch, after all.

The little boy clenched his fists and jumped from the window sill back into his room, landing with a small thud. The room was, in comparison to Little Red Riding Snape, a vast chamber. A large bed (combined of seven pushed together mini-beds) built the centre of the boy's room. Two convenient pillows and a comfy blanket were everything on it; no stuffed animals or anything similar. Little Red Riding Snape wasn't a baby-boy anymore, by all means, nothing in the room would suggest that indeed a child occupied it. In front of the window (which was closed most of the time to keep out the irritating noises all living beings produced en masse) a heavy mahogany desk complete with chair (at the touch of a button to be driven up and down) was located. One wall was clad with a shelf stuffed to the rim with heavy tomes on magic and potions making. Little Red Riding Snape's mother deemed him a bit delusional but his father merely smiled in pity (which infuriated the boy to no end) and said nothing.

The door to his room swung open and Little Red Riding Snape's mother, Molly Weasley, went in. Little Red Riding Snape rolled his eyes secretly.

"Oh, Little Red Riding Snape," Molly said, "would you be a dear and bring your Grandfather this picnic basket?" She held out said basket, which was twice as big as Little Red Riding Snape. "It is such a beautiful day, and you shouldn't spend it in your room, my boy."

Said boy merely repressed a sneer. "Yes, Mummy," he pronounced with great distaste. "Whatever you say, Mummy. I will head to Grandfather's straight away, Mummy." He practically ripped the basket out of his mother's hands, barely managing not to break down. He huffed and puffed, and then he managed to swing the basket over his back, so he could carry it like a rucksack. This made it all the easier.

"But don't leave the path, dear," his mother reminded him. "There are dangerous creatures in the forest, like the Big Bad Remus."

"No, I won't leave the path, Mummy," Little Red Riding Snape promised, not bothering to cross his fingers, though he knew he'd be going into the woods, anyway.

"Good boy," Molly praised, ushering her son out. "Now go, quick, so you make it back before dawn."

So Little Red Riding Snape trudged from his home to the forest, staying on the path for the time being. As he entered the forest, though, he quickly became interested in all the different flowers and herbs. He had always been fascinated by plants, especially those that could be used for something. He didn't like flowers only to look at them; that was so dreadfully boring. He liked camomile, because it soothed his nerves when his parents were straining them again. He liked nettles, because it could be used to flush one's urethra and he could smuggle it into the meal of his parents whenever the camomile wasn't enough.

When he had gathered enough herbs, Little Red Riding Snape started to get back on track, when there was a sudden noise from the right.

"Why, hello, little boy," a soft voice said, causing Little Red Riding Snape to groan. "What are you doing here, all alone?"

Little Red Riding Snape turned around and saw the slim figure of a brown-haired man with brown eyes and even browner clothes. He was coming closer now, moving with the agility of a wolf circling his prey, and he was smiling widely. Of course, it was Big Bad Remus.

"Are you Remus?" Little Red Riding Snape asked, bored.

"No, no," Big Bad Remus denied quickly, sharp canines flashing in the sunlight. "I'm just a little werewolf."

"Oh, only a werewolf," the red-haired boy repeated, shrugging. "Mummy didn't warn me of werewolves, so I guess it's okay."

Big Bad Remus grinned at that. "Excellent," he murmured, then went on louder, "Wherever are you going, little boy?"

"I'm supposed to bring this picnic basket to Grandfather," Little Red Riding Snape supplied.

"To Grandfather, really?" the werewolf said, adding great surprise to his voice. "My, what a coincidence! I'm on my way to Grandfather, myself. Why don't we go together? I could carry the picnic basket; it looks awfully heavy."

Little Red Riding Snape raised a single brow. "Aren't you supposed to tell me the wrong way before you take a shortcut?"

"I decided on a bit variety to spice things up," Big Bad Remus said, taking the basket from the boy. "Let's go."

They walked in silence for a while. Then, Big Bad Remus asked, "And? Did you work on any more potions lately?"

Little Red Riding Snape sighed. "No," he said grumpily. "Mummy won't let me. She thinks I'm nutty, so she sends me to Grandfather all the time to get me into the fresh air... What about you? Found any helpful charms in the library?"

"No," the werewolf replied. That was the end of their conversation – like every time. They trudged on, and after another half an hour, they came to their destination. There was a large lake amidst a meadow, right in front of a huge castle. Up in one of the highest towers was the prison of a certain tousle-headed, green-eyed virgin. In front of the castle a fire spitting Draco kept guard. This scene didn't catch the travellers' attention, though, as they walked on until they reached a small wooden hut.

Little Red Riding Snape went to knock, and as his Grandfather answered, he went inside, Big Bad Remus following not far behind.

"Grandfather Albus," the boy said, biting back a smirk as he caught sight of the old man wearing a bright purple dressing gown and matching hairnet. "I've brought you some cookies and tea from Mummy." He motioned to the werewolf to give the basket to his Grandfather.

"Why, thank you," Grandfather Albus said, eyes twinkling madly behind his half-moon glasses. "And I see you brought a friend, my child. Come in, come in! Let's see what Molly packed into this basket, shall we?"

* * *

"And what has Molly put into the basket?" a small, frizzy-haired girl asked. "Cookies? Sweet rolls? Candy? What was it this time?"

Her father, Neville Longbottom, shut the fairytale book and said, "Well, we'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out."

"Awwwww," the girl whined. "I'm not tired yet. Can't you read something more? Please?"

"It's late already," Neville said, tucking his daughter in. "You have to get your sleep."

"Please, just one tiny story?" the girl wheedled. "Please, daddy?"

Neville sighed, feeling his resolve crumbling. "Well..."

"How did Little Red Riding Snape get into the fairytale book?" the girl asked eagerly. She'd always wanted to know how these things worked. Even though she knew what magic was and how some things were made, she had no idea how it came that every time they read this particular story, it was written differently. Hogwarts, A History, the book her mother always read to her, couldn't do that.

Neville flushed uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "Yes, well," he said awkwardly. "Once upon a time, there was a Potions accident..."

End-


End file.
